(Zara)
The photo never surfaced.
A week passed, then most of another, and nothing appeared. No blurry shot of two people in a garage, no caption inventing a story out of an arm's length. Sebastian never told me what he'd done to bury it, and I never asked, because some part of me understood the answer might be a thing I'd rather not carry. It was handled. That was the word he'd used, and for once I let a man's word be the end of it.
Then the gala landed on all of us at once.
The company held it every year, Priya told me, a charity night for the Wolfe scholarship fund, black tie, the whole executive floor and half the building expected to attend. It wasn't optional in the way things at that level are never really optional. You went, you smiled, you stood near the right people, and you c
